Self Portrait
by GingerBreadAlex
Summary: Albus Severus. Albus after the great Hogwarts headmaster and my father's mentor, Severus after the great hero and my father's most hated Potions teacher. I found a portrait of the him. Now I must find him again and bring him back to the real world.
1. Chapter 1

**Self-Portrait**

**Chapter One**

Albus Severus was sitting in front of the Gryffindor common room fireplace, cradling a glass of Coke in one hand and twiddling a quill in the other whilst balancing his potions book on his knee. Like his namesake, he was exceptionally good at Potions. He found it incredibly easy, and usually enjoyable. The copious amount of notes that he had to write up, however, proved to be time consuming.

He quickly looked up at the clock, realising that he had to be awake early tomorrow to watch his older brother, James, play Quidditch for the Gryffindor team.

_Damn, it already IS tomorrow..._

He packed his quill, books and ink into his bag and scampered upstairs to his dormitory.

Albus had always felt at home in Hogwarts. Of course, he did have a REAL home, but Hogwarts seemed to feel somehow more special, more private, like a home that he himself owned.

He liked all of his subjects, even History of Magic; this thirst for education he also shared with his Aunt Hermione, herself a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the Head Campaigner for House Elf rights. He and James were always daring each other to say that quickly.

He yawned.

_Oh, Lord, I had better be in bed or else I'll never wake up in the morning, and then James will kill me!_

He had wanted to go touring the castle again (something he did almost every night), to find new hiding places and quiet areas to study, but instead he had stayed in the common room, studiously working on an essay about boils.

'_Hehe, boils,' _Albus giggled to himself, childishly. He dropped his bag onto the floor, pulled on his pyjamas, and fell into bed.

In a matter of minutes, sleep had furled itself around his sleeping form, closing his mind and sending his thoughts into the fluffy nest of the dream world, ready to be thrown back to the surface of consciousness in the morning...


	2. Chapter 2

**Self-Portrait**

**Chapter Two**

"Rose, just because you're such an intellectual!"

"Oh, shut up, Hugo."

These were the first sounds that Albus could hear as he approached Gryffindor's table in the Great Hall. He had remembered the first time he had walked into this massive hall; the bewitched ceiling ("It's not real; it's just charmed to look like the night's sky. I think it's in Hogwarts: A History", he remembered Rose Weasley saying); the hundreds of pale faces staring into his eyes, whispering ("Another Potter kid? Are you sure? Isn't he called Albus? I heard he was called Severus... no seriously!"); the huge amounts of food...

"What's up, Al? Hey, guess what day it is today!" James called to him as he approached the table.

"The Quidditch match, obviously! What else could it be? You've been prattling on about it for weeks..."

Albus always found James _so_ annoying. He was quite arrogant and selfish sometimes; he definitely preferred Lily, his younger sister.

"So, are you going to cheer for me? Come on, Al, this is it! My big debut; my **break **into the world of fame and glory!"

Somewhere down the table, a first year snorted in laughter, but quickly fell silent as James glared at him

"Yeah, yeah, I'll cheer for you. Who else am I going to cheer for, the Slytherins?"

"You wouldn't dare!" James shouted.

"Please, James. You really needn't be so loud," Rose sniffed, turning her head away.

After they had eaten; Rose, Hugo, Albus and Lily all wandered down to the pitch to claim good seats, apart from James who declared that he needed to get changed for his 'debut'. The four were left to wander through the huge stands before eventually arriving at the top of one the Gryffindor platforms, where Frank, Alice, Jean and Mena Longbottom had saved seats for them.

These four were the children of Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom, who were both original and devoted members of Dumbledore's Army, and close friends of Harry and Ginny. The eldest of the children were Frank and Alice, who were twins named after Neville's late parents. They had inherited Neville's podgy figure and dark hair whereas their sister, Jean, had long, bushy brown hair just like her namesake, Hermione Granger, although she still held her mother's enigmatic and dreamy smile.

The last child at Hogwarts (for Stella was not yet 11) was Mena.

Mena was the most like her mother, and Albus' favourite of the Longbottom children. She had long, shining blonde hair and piercing ice-blue eyes. She also, like her mother, enjoyed reading The Quibbler, which still produced the strangest articles. Mena was kind and exceptionally clever, although many people believed that she was as dreamy and foolish in mind as she seemed in appearance. Albus secretly thought that that was a whole facade that Mena had adopted from her mother, but of course, he never brought this up.

"Is James getting ready, then? I expect he'll be a bit nervous, since this is his first match!" Frank said, with good intentions.

"Oh yes, he is getting ready, but he's not at all nervous," Rose huffed. "He's being very childish about it, if you ask me! I think a bit of fear always helps with these things, but he seems quite complacent!"

Lily and Albus giggled; Rose could be so uptight, sometimes.

"He's quite sweet, really!" Lily said. This comment caused them all to burst out laughing, all imagining James' face at the idea that he was 'sweet'.

"Well, let's just hope he wins! I don't want to put up with hearing the Slytherins gloating all day, or James' bad temper." Alice rolled her eyes.

Just then, before anyone could say anything else, the trumpets exploded into a chorus of noise, announcing the arrival of the players.

Fourteen red and green dots flew out onto the pitch, circling the stands before finally hovering above Madame Hooch, a formidable woman who had apparently been working at the school when Albus' father was there.

"I hope none of you have forgotten the rules," she barked, "I want this to be fair play. _No _fouling, gouging, biting, scratching, spitting, swearing, kicking or beating unless you ARE a beater. Or else." She glared fiercely at the Slytherins. She let the Bludgers and Snitch go free before throwing the Quaffle, a football sized red ball, into the air. Release was like an orgasm. The spectators screamed with passion to their teams; chanting among the Slytherins began, as primitive and hooligan-like they were; the players whizzed around the pitch, dodging, swerving, shouting and passing. James and the other Seeker, however, hovered above the game, eyes like hawks looking for the Golden Snitch.

"Hey look!" shouted Mena, "I see Roxanne! I didn't know she was a Beater!"

"Well, her dad and uncle were both the Gryffindor Beaters. We sometimes go round to Uncle Fred's to play - they're both amazing!" Albus boasted.

"And what have we here? Roxanne the sexy Beater, getting ready for a good game. I could play a few good games with her, eh?"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor!" Kingsley Jordan quickly apologised, however Professor McGonagall was still attempting to hit him with her _Daily Prophet._ "Just like your father," she grumbled through gritted teeth. Part of the fun of going to watch the teams play Quidditch was listening to Kingsley Jordan's hilarious commentary, and Professor McGonagall's appalled reprimanding.

"Not changed at all since last year, has he?" remarked Alice, whilst the others laughed.

"And there he is, Zabini weaving through the other chasers, coming up the posts with the Quaffle, passes it to Avery who passes it back to Zab-, no wait, Weasley's grabbed the ball! And she's OFF!" The match was proving to be rather exciting! Gryffindor had 10 points, and the game was only just setting off!

"Look, there's Avery again, passes to Zabini, to Greengrass - hey! Foul!" Shouts from the Gryffindor stand erupted as the Slytherin Keeper kicked Sophie Bell off her broom.

"Penalty shot to Gryffindor, those dastardly Slyth-"

"Jordan, I am warning you..."

"Sorry, Professor!"

The game continued. Gryffindor had 40 points, Slytherin just ahead with 50. Lily started to get a bit restless - she and Rose were never amazingly keen on Quidditch. Suddenly, however, excited voices filled the air.

"Is... is that the Snitch?" James had bolted like a horse, speeding to the ground; the wind was whipping at his face; there was a whistling noise in his ears; his hair was flying in all directions until ...

"I'VE GOT THE SNITCH!"

The crowds screamed at him; the Slytherins booing, the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs applauding, and the Gryffindors screeching like madmen.

"He did it! He bloody did it!"

"How long did that game last?"

"He was am-A-zing!"

James looked up to his younger brother, a huge grin on his face. He'd have a lot to tell his parents tonight!


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N. Finally! I'm so sorry I've taken so long to update this! I really hope it was worth the wait!**

**Self-Portrait**

**Chapter Three**

The partying in the Gryffindor common room continued for hours, or so it seemed to Albus. James took great pleasure in repeating the story of how he caught the golden snitch - becoming more elaborate each time he told it. Eventually, Albus managed to get away to his room where he dug out the Cloak from underneath his bed, put it on and slowly crept out again.

_Now's a good time for touring the castle!_ He thought to himself. Everybody would be in their common rooms, so he hopefully wouldn't run into someone. He skirted the Common Room, but once had to leap back against the wall as James, retelling his heroic story of the Quidditch match, flung an arm out towards him; snuck out through the door and at once was off.

_I think I'll head towards the dungeons this evening... _He hadn't been there in a long time, as the previous time was rather an unpleasant memory for him, and he had forgotten to bring his cloak.

...

"Oi! What're you doing here?" Albus swivelled around, recognising the voice.

"Oh. Goyle. Nothing, I wasn-"

"You're not supposed to be here. Who the hell do you think you are, sneaking around down here, near our common room? What are you up to?"

"I wasn't! I was just lookin-"

"Well don't bother."

It would have been fine if it had been left at that. But at that moment, Scorpius Malfoy appeared, previously hidden in the doorway. Harry had hated Draco Malfoy, the boy's father, when he was at school. Albus had always managed to stay out of his way, or had James to protect him. But not now.

"What's this? Potter's son," Scorpius spat out the name like it was poison. "Just like your father, aren't you, Potter? Sneaky, and doesn't realise when he should just keep his big nose out of people's business."

"Don't you dare talk about my dad like that, Malfoy. He's a better man then ANY of you Slytherins!" At that, Malfoy and Goyle's eyes widened; Goyle cracked his knuckles.

"What did you say?"

Albus faltered. He realised something was going to go badly wrong now.

"N-nothing, I'm sorry I was here, I'll jus-"

"COWARD!" Malfoy screamed, and he pushed Albus into the doorway which Scorpius had just been lurking in.

"You grab his arms," he grinned to Goyle, "and I'll hit ..."

...

Albus shuddered at the memory. Of course, their brutal attack had left marks, but Albus refused to tell anybody about the attack, including James and his parents. And especially his father...

_What would they think of me? They'd realise how much of a coward I actually am..._

Shaking his head, he continued along the staircase, down, down, down into the dungeons. They were quite damp quarters, with low ceilings and a icy chill running through the walls. At first, Albus was relieved that the Hat hadn't sorted him into Slytherin, and that he wouldn't have to stay in this part of the castle, yet Albus enjoyed the quiet down here occasionally. He skirted the corridor, keeping well away from the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and soon found himself in front of a small, wooden door. He had never seen this before, but he recalled what his father had said about doorways and walls appearing in Hogwarts when you least expected it, yet still, the young boy was quite afraid.

_Should I go in? What if it's dangerous? Well, I suppose I'd better try it - I might regret not doing later! _

Gingerly, he took the doorknob and turned. It clicked loudly and swung open on creaking hinges.

Inside there was very dark room with cobwebs swinging from the ceiling. In here it was _bitterly _cold yet there was the single light of a candle flickering on the opposite side of the room, in front of a dusty-looking portrait which had been hung there. Slowly and cautiously, Albus made his way towards the painting, keeping sure to listen carefully for any signs of people coming. He reached the portrait, realising that it was in fact dustier than he first thought. Moving the candlestick to one side, he pulled his sleeve down to wipe away the dust, but when he had done, he realised that the portrait-hole was completely empty - only a black background. Disappointed, Albus Severus turned his back to the painting and began to walk away.

"You, boy!" called a sudden, sharp voice. Albus leapt into the air; he pivoted back towards the painting, his breathing coming out in short, jerky breaths. In the portrait now was a man in about his mid-30s, with long, greasy black hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin. "What are you doing down here? How did you get in?"

"I- I just opened the door!" he stammered, quite alarmed. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you in the portrait!" The man narrowed his eyes, which were anicy black.

"What's your name?"

"Albus, sir. Albus Severus Potter." The man started sharply and his eyes widened, incredulous.

"I beg your pardon? _Albus Severus Potter_?" He punctuated every word.

"Th-that's right. After two Hogwarts headmasters. Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. They're both dead, though," Albus said. The mysterious portrait raised his eyebrows,

"Not necessarily," he whispered.

Albus peered into the portrait, trying to decipher what it had just said. "What do you mean? They're alive? I heard Snape was killed, though, by Voldemort himself!"

The man flinched; "Do not say his name!" He hissed, "I hate that name."

Albus was confused. "My aunt says fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself. Nobody minds anymore. Dad tells me people used to call him You-Know-Who, but-"

"Be quiet. Has anyone ever told you you talk too much?" the man sneered. Albus shifted, embarrassed by what the portrait had said. In fact, usually, he was far too quiet. But he did not want to provoke the painting any further, so he merely said,

"Sorry." He shuffled about, feeling awkward under the man's fierce gaze. At last, the portrait said,

"So, a Potter, eh? You wouldn't be the son of Harry Potter, would you?"

"The very man! He's my dad! And Ginny Weasley, she's my mum!" The portrait snorted in laughter, but quickly covered his mouth and coughed.

"I can't believe it. So he made it. The Dark Lord, he's really dead?"

"Well, yeah. He's been dead for nearly 20 years." The painting's mouth dropped open, and he gasped loudly,

"I don't believe it! As long as that? _20 years?_" Albus couldn't contain his curiosity any longer, and said,

"Please tell me, sir, who are you?"

The portrait sighed, and his brow furrowed in thought. Eventually, his eyes rested on the young boy, and he said in a resounding voice,

"I, boy, am Severus Snape."


	4. Chapter 4

**Self-Portrait**

**Chapter Four**

After this revelation, the portrait had told Albus to return to that same place at 7PM on the next Saturday. Albus sprinted out of the room, up along the Slytherin corridor, and was bounding up the stairs, thinking about how jealous James would be that he actually met THE Severus Snape, when he remembered what the man had said to him shortly before he left,

"You must not -Potter, listen! It is _imperative _that you do not tell a single soul about me, is that understood?" Albus hadn't understood _why_, but he had agreed all the same.

_Oh, it would have made James so jealous... and finally wiped that stupid, smug smile off his face, _Albus thought to himself, grimly.

He walked slower now that he had managed to get a good distance between himself and the Slytherin Common Room, and soon he reached the seventh floor, where the Gryffindor Tower was located.

"Hello!" he whispered to the Fat Lady, talking off his father's Invisibility Cloak. He was always polite to the portraits, even though many people teased him for it.

"What on earth are you doing, wandering around the castle at this time?" she snapped, obviously annoyed that he had woken her up. "I'm _trying _to sleep, you thoughtless boy."

"I'm sorry! Norwegian Ridgeback," he said. The portrait gave a disgruntled _hmph _and swung open. The embers in the fire were still glowing brightly as he went inside, and he quickly looked around to see that no one was there.

_Good_, he thought, _I can just slip upstairs and no one will know I was gone._

Yet, as he continued across the Common Room, a tinkling voice rang out in the darkness. "Hello, Albus!" He yelped and swirled around to face the fire. In the largest chair sat Mena Longbottom. She looked tiny and rather comical in the folds of the armchair, and on her knees she was balancing a huge book entitled 'Nargles - The Dangers Which Could Be Lurking Inside Your Mistletoe'. "Oh! Hello, Mena. I didn't see you there! Er... wh-what are you doing this late?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she smiled at him kindly. "What's that you've got there?" she said, indicating to the Cloak.

"Oh, er, nothing. Nothing special, really!" He laughed nervously and tucked it out of sight. Trying to change the subject, he said quickly, "That's an interesting book! What's it about?"

_What a stupid question, could the title be any more obvious? _he inwardly cursed himself.

Mena giggled, "Well, it's about Nargles really. They're quite fascinating creatures. I think they've stolen my coat as I haven't seen it since the term started." Mena and her mother were notorious for believing in magical beasts which no one thought existed. Harry was always joking to his children about Nargles; now Albus realised where he got them from.

"Do they really exist then, Nargles?" Albus didn't really care too much, but he was determined to gloss over the awkward moment. Mena however was not prepared to let it drop.

"Yes. But I feel as though you are trying to change the subject. Where have you been?"

Albus sighed, "Nowhere, really. I've just been visiting the castle. I like it - the castle's full of strange things." He laughed inwardly to himself.

"Where did you go this evening, then?" She would not give up until Albus had told her everything. Sometimes this did annoy him a bit; she was often reluctant to let things drop.

"Oh, just the dungeons. I don't know why. Just felt like a change." He couldn't think of a good enough reason, but quickly added, "And anyway, James was beginning to annoy me a bit! I just wanted to get away from all the noise."

"I see what you mean. But really, the dungeons?" she raised an eyebrow. "Of all places, why there? The Slytherin Common Room's down there."

Albus was beginning to get quite annoyed now. He knew that Mena would not tell anyone about their conversation - she never did, she wasn't one to gossip. However she was always so curious.

_Too curious, _thought Albus, bitterly.

"Mena, I really don't know. I just had a feeling that tonight, I should visit the dungeons. I don't know why and I can't really explain... And no, before you ask, I didn't find anything interesting either." Mena closed her mouth quickly. Albus hadn't meant to snap at that last part, but he couldn't help himself. He desperately wanted to keep his word to Severus Snape.

"I'm going to bed now. I'll speak to you tomorrow," Albus attempted a grin, but it was more an uncomfortable grimace. Nevertheless, she smiled back at him and bid him goodnight.

Once inside his own dormitory, Albus swiftly changed into his night clothes and fell into bed. His mind was still reeling after encountering the portrait, and what a portrait! He couldn't believe his eyes. His father had told him that he had ordered a painting of the former headmaster to be put in the Headmaster's Office, but that was the only portrait which he thought existed.

_And what was that room? _he thought. _It must be a secret place, for I've never seen it before. And I don't think I've ever heard any of the Slytherins talking about it. Maybe it's like the Room of Requirement? Maybe it only appears when a person... needs an adventure? Or maybe it only showed itself to me! Because I'm special!_

Albus shook his head. This was silly and futile. The best he could do would be to meet the portrait again at the time Snape had specified. Yes, he could wait until then. For now, however, he needed sleep.


End file.
